


Comfort

by summerplaylist



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerplaylist/pseuds/summerplaylist
Summary: The sky is blue, and Link is tired of it.





	

The sky is blue, and Link is tired of it. Anything comforting is long gone, and he doesn't really know if anything ever _was_ comforting anymore.

He wants to go home, he thinks, but home isn't what it used to be. Home is simple and soft, with pleasant people and happy chatter. Real life—the real world—is harsh.

And he's gotten rather used to it.

Weeks at sea now, chasing after the last Triforce shard that may as well be a dream. The sky is blue, and Link is tired of it, because everything is blue except for his tunic and the King of Red Lions.

Everything is blue.

He wonders how Tetra does it day after day, year after year. But she has more than a boat to talk to—she has her friends. And she doesn't have to lay on the cold, hard wooden body of her ship either. She has a bedroom.

She has a home.

“What are you thinking about, Link?” the King asks. He asks it often, probably to keep whatever sanity the two of them has left. Which isn't much.

Link is tired.

“I'm thinking about the color blue,” he says, because it's easier than admitting he was thinking about Tetra. Anything is easier than admitting he was thinking about her.

Especially considering the King of Red Lions is kinda her father. He would probably completely flip out, throwing Link overboard and letting him drown in the sea of his own emotions.

“The color blue,” the King muses. “Isn't it beautiful? The sky and the sea, merging to form the most perfect of colors.”

“I hate it,” Link snaps. He sits up, rocking the boat violently. “I want to stop searching for the Triforce shard. I need to stop somewhere—to—to take a break from all this blue.”

“Change the wind direction then,” the King says.

Link takes the Wind Waker out of his pocket. He lifts it into the air, hearing the now familiar voices sing out the melody in his mind. “What's the closest island?” he asks, because honestly, he hasn't paid any attention lately.

He just knows they've been sailing, and sailing, and then sailing some more.

“Home.” The King of Red Lions turns his head around, giving Link a grin. “Outset Island. It's to the south.”

“Home?” Link feels something stir inside of him. But it isn't the homesickness that used to plague him for days—it's something else.

Obediently, and because the voices are waiting, he lets the wind blow south. The King turns along with it, his sail being propelled by the strong gusts of wind.

Link lays back down, sighing along with the motion. Home. That hideously simple and soft place, filled with pleasant people and happy chatter. He doesn't belong there, he knows that now, as sure as he knows a kingdom is lost beneath the sea.

It's both a wonderful and terrifying thought. Wonderful, because it means he has learned there is more to the world than that place; terrifying, because it means he has lost a piece of himself along with that knowledge.

“I thought you would be more excited,” the King says, making Link blink open his tired eyes. A dying blue sky, soft wisps of clouds threaded throughout it, greets him.

It would be night soon.

“I am,” Link says, stretching out his sore limbs. He was so looking forward to being on land again, to feeling the sand beneath his feet once more.

And he was looking forward to seeing his grandmother, to seeing Aryll. He wondered what they would say, seeing their boy two years older and nowhere closer to completing his journey.

Well, maybe that's a stretch. He _is_ closer—but still so far. Still so achingly far.

The King of Red Lions approaches the shore swiftly. There is no light in the windows; the island is asleep.

“Take it easy,” the King says. “Don't fall down and hurt yourself.”

Link gathers his things and timidly gets out of the boat, stumbling a bit as his legs get used to walking on dry land. “I'll be back in the morning,” he promises.

“Take your time. The last shard is nearby. Once we find it, your destiny will be decided. There's no rush.”

Link forces a laugh. “So you're basically saying, 'have fun with your family before you get killed?'”

The King looks away. He doesn't reply, and that confirms Link's worst suspicions—even the King has lost faith in him after so long at sea.

Link wishes him a good night regardless, turning away and walking along the once familiar beach. He slips off his boots, letting the sand crawl between his toes. His grandma's house is so close; he can almost taste her homemade soup, can hear her happy voice.

Home is simple and soft. But maybe he should begin appreciating that comfort a little bit more.

He walks the steps leading up to the house, sitting himself on the wooden deck. Walking inside at this time of night would only scare them, and his little sister has already been scared plenty enough for one lifetime.

Plenty enough for anyone, he supposes, including himself.

Link closes his eyes. The night is warm, and it's comforting to even be _this_ close to his family. It's better than not being close at all.

But then he hears the front door crack open. He stands up, instantly pulling his sword even though he knows it isn't necessary. And it isn't _ever_ right to pull a sword against family—

“Link.” Aryll clasps her hands over her mouth. She's older now, even older than the last time he'd seen her. Her blond hair is long and braided rather than in its usual pigtails, and she's almost as tall as him now.

It's been years. Even if Link has tried to deny it, that truth hasn't changed.

Link bites his lip, putting away his sword. Aryll makes no mention of it. She reaches out to touch him, but holds herself back.

“It's your sixteenth birthday today. Did you know that?” Aryll laughs—and it's the same one as Link had pulled on the King of Red Lions—forced. “Of course you didn't. Well, come inside, Big Brother.”

“Why are you up so late?” Link asks, following her in. His grandma is sleeping heavily, her snores filling the house.

“Every night I walk outside and pray to the ancient goddesses long after the island's asleep,” Aryll says.

She turns and begins climbing up the ladder. Link follows. She now has her bedroom up there—Link briefly wonders what had happened to all of his things, if they're still laying near his bed, dusty and unused.

“What were you praying for?” Link asks. He would have asked anything, really. Anything to get his mind off of such thoughts.

“For your comfort and protection,” Aryll says. Like it's obvious. She undoes her braid, letting her long hair fall over her shoulders. “I suppose it worked.”

“Being alive isn't the same as being comfortable,” Link says, instantly regretting it. That was the complete _wrong_ thing to say. What the hell was wrong with him?

But Aryll doesn't seem hurt at all. In fact, she only smiles a little bit more. “I prayed and prayed that you would come home, and you did. Grandma will be so happy to see you in the morning.”

Link allows himself a smile, but it doesn't feel very happy. It gives him a bad feeling in his stomach. He begins climbing back down the ladder, causing Aryll to cry out in alarm.

“Where are you going? You can't leave just yet.”

“I'll be back in the morning,” he promises, hopping down to the floor. He unloads his shield near the door. Even his sword. For one night, he wants to be the boy he used to be.

“Grandma made you some new clothes for your birthday.” Aryll rummages through some bags until she finds what she was looking for. She throws them over the edge, and Link catches them.

It's a blue crayfish shirt. Classic. And better than the patched up tunic he had been wearing the past few months. He had been growing through them like crazy lately, and it would be nice to wear something that fit…

Link thanks her before leaving the house. He gets changed among the bushes, enjoying the feeling of handmade clothing on his skin. His grandmother had gotten the sizing a little wrong—the shirt is a little too large—but at least it isn't green.

Even if it _is_ blue.

The island looks the same—the homes, the trees, the grass.

The sea.

Everything looks the same.

Link walks back to the King of Red Lions, who's in the process of snoozing. Link opens his mouth to say something, to wake him, but decides better of it. The King deserves his rest more than anything.

Then he sees it. A pirate ship, nearing Outset Island. It's Tetra's ship—and that means Tetra is there. But why? How could she possibly be there?

It's just a dream, a mirage, a trick of the mind.

It has to be.

Then he remembers. The Pirate's Charm. Which is blue, just like everything else. He pulls it from under his shirt—he's been wearing it like a necklace, afraid of losing it—and looks into it for a sign that Tetra is watching.

It never comes.

Tetra hasn't spoken to him for months now, ever since she's been taken. She could have easily forgotten the charm. Or maybe she has been watching quietly, all this time, completely out of the way, so Ganon didn't notice their connection.

Link sits down on the beach and waits for morning. The charm is warm and comforting where it lays on his skin.

The memory of the pirate ship draws nearer. The familiar white and blue flag glaring at him. He feels his eyes grow heavy, and would it be so bad just to sleep a _little_ bit?

The dreams come and go, completely unsubstantial. He hadn't slept a good night's sleep in ages. There's always tossing and turning, bad dreams, a sea beneath him that never stops moving.

He wakes up to a harsh kick to the side. The kick belongs to Tetra, her brown boot old and tattered.

“Wake up,” she says. “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off saving the world?”

Link blinks. “Shouldn't I be saving you?”

“I'm not any damsel in distress, you know.” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “I can take of myself!”

Link blinks again, and she's gone. The sun is rising, and Link rubs sand from his eyes.

“Did you have a good visit?” the King asks, yawning hugely.

Link doesn't answer, jumping straight to a question of his own. “Do you think Tetra—I mean, Princess Zelda—will be okay?”

The King smiles, a glint of mischief in his weathered old eyes. “She's not any damsel in distress, you know. She can take care of herself.”

Link touches the Pirate's Charm, and it shakes in his hand. Just enough to know that she's there.

That she's watching.

“Do you think that, after all of this, I'll be able to save myself?”

The King looks at him steadily. So steadily that Link almost looks away—but he stops himself just in time.

“You don't need saving, Link. Why don't you believe that? Once you survive Ganon—and you _will_ survive, mark my words—you will learn to live again. Nobody will let you fall apart.”

Link looks over at his grandma's house, at the simplicity and softness. So different from the harsh world—the one that maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to be so used to after all.

“Go visit your family, Link,” the King says. “And once you do, you will have many more days such as this one. You will never have to go without comfort again.”


End file.
